


If You Were Here

by missbecky



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, Civil War (Marvel), Comfort Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:49:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a perfect world he would be with someone else right now, and it would be a familiar, strong hand he is reaching for. But the world has never been perfect, and Tony long ago learned to take the scraps he is given and make do with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Were Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laireshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/gifts).



> This is something I've wanted to write for ages, thinking about Civil War and these two desperately lonely men. Thanks to a recent conversation and a few posts on Tumblr, I finally found the motivation to sit down and write it.
> 
> The title comes from the song with the same name by The Thompson Twins.

Tony moves through the security measures at the Baxter Building without really thinking twice about any of them. He's been here so often over the past few weeks that it's almost begun to feel like home.

The lab is the same as when he left it two days ago. Reed is already there, of course, hunched over a computer, reaching absently across the room for his notes, a pencil, or anything else he requires. He barely acknowledges Tony's presence before returning to work.

Which suits Tony fine. He calls up the files for 42 that he was working on, and he gets down to it.

****

He's lost all track of time when he hears a frantic beeping emanating from somewhere on Reed's side of the lab. He looks up sharply, blinking rapidly to clear his gaze – he's been staring steadily at the same set of equations for so long that the numbers are beginning to blur into one another.

Across from him, Reed is slow to spring into action. It seems to take him forever to stop the computer simulation and get things under control again. "Sorry," he mutters. "Must've missed a step."

Tony stares at him. It's not at all like Reed to miss anything, much less admit to it. He frowns then, noticing his friend's generally disheveled state for the first time. Reed is unshaven, his lab coat wrinkled beyond its normal state. This isn't the sort of rumpled that usually tends to affect Reed – or Tony himself, for that matter – after working long hours without interruption. This is more like neglect, pure and simple.

And it's a condition Tony knows only too well. Especially lately, when he's been throwing himself into the work, using it as a way to escape what's going on around him.

"Hey," he says. He starts to walk over to where Reed stands in front of a computer keyboard, fingers flying over the keys. "Everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Reed says without looking up.

"Because even a kid at his first science fair would know not to start a simulation like that without first checking that his math is right," Tony says.

Reed glances in his general direction without actually looking at him. "No harm done," he says. "Go back to work, Anthony."

Tony comes to a halt a few feet away. "What's going on, Reed?"

"Who says there's anything wrong," Reed insists. He still won't look at Tony, which isn't exactly anything new. This is Reed Richards, after all. But he's angled himself slightly away from Tony, which _is_ new.

"People like you and me don't make mistakes like that," Tony says. "Unless there's something wrong." _Something so wrong that it eats up all our thoughts_ , he doesn't say.

Something like the Civil War currently tearing the superhero community apart, for instance.

Reed stiffens, his shoulders hunching. He makes a noise, low and ashamed, and Tony realizes suddenly that he's practically crying.

The knowledge shocks him. He's known Reed for years and never seen the man cry. All this time, and he wasn't even sure such a thing was possible. Immediately he feels ashamed of himself for such thoughts – after all, there are probably plenty of people out there who would swear that the arrogant Tony Stark isn't capable of tears, either.

"What is it?" he asks.

Reed shakes his head miserably. "Sue left me," he confesses. "Ben is out of the country and probably won't be back. I don't know what to do. My own family, my friends…they all hate me."

Tony gives him a smile only slightly tainted with bitterness. "I wouldn't know what that feels like."

Reed does not smile back. He just starts to cry.

Tony just stands there, feeling like an asshole. The worst thing is, he knew this was coming. He knew it, and he took no steps whatsoever to mitigate it, or stop it from happening. He tells himself that Reed knew what he was getting into, that Reed even knew how this would all end. _Well, I have to go home and fight with my wife about this for the rest of my life_ , he had said after that first meeting of the Illuminati when Tony tried to warn them about the SHRA.

Not that it makes it any better. He likes Sue. He can't say he's surprised that she left, but he wishes like hell that she could have stuck it out just a little while longer.

Reed covers his face with his hands, embarrassed and ashamed. It hurts to see him that way, reduced to this. He may not support registration with the same passion Tony feels on the subject, but he's been a stalwart presence through the worst of it all, standing beside Tony even when few others would. For that alone he owes Reed a debt of gratitude he can never repay.

"Hey," Tony says. He steps forward and pats Reed on the shoulder. It's clumsy and awkward, and he feels even more like a total asshole, because what kind of friend is he anyway, so at last he takes the final step separating them, and he hugs Reed.

Reed clutches him back and cries on his shoulder. He doesn't cry for long though; displays of emotion have never been his style. As quickly as it came on him, it's all over. He loosens the circle of his arms and shifts his weight, getting ready to let go completely.

Still feeling guilty for his rather cold reception of Reed's news about Sue, Tony overcompensates now – the way he so often does. As Reed moves back, Tony presses a quick kiss to his cheek, not far from that patch of white hair at his temple. "Not everyone hates you," he says.

Reed freezes. He looks up at Tony, his eyes red from crying, wide and wondering.

Tony could kick himself. It didn't really mean anything, after all. Nothing beyond a simple encouragement. A brief moment of comfort. A gesture from one friend to another. But he doesn't know how to say that without ruining everything completely. And before he can come up with the right words, Reed leans in and kisses him back.

Utterly taken aback, Tony doesn't know how to react at first. Reed keeps kissing him, though, sloppy and all over the place. In spite of his rumpled state, his breath does not taste like alcohol, which means he knows perfectly well what he's doing. His arms come back up to encircle Tony, not with his powers, but just a simple embrace that's maybe tighter than it needs to be. It's the move of a desperately lonely man who's trying very hard not to be lonely.

And this, too, Tony knows. All too well. He can't even remember the last time anyone hugged him, or tried to make him feel like everything was going to be okay. And though every instinct screams that they shouldn't do this, that he should put a stop to it, he's powerless against the terrible need that sweeps through him, making him close his eyes against the unaccustomed feeling of warm arms embracing him. 

He can't help it. He kisses Reed back.

Why shouldn't he take this for himself? An hour from now he might find himself on the street, fighting (Steve) his friends and trying to arrest them. He should take this while he still can. While it can still mean something.

They're still kissing as they back up, until the table is at Reed's back and they can't go any further. Reed's hands scrabble at his dress shirt, pulling it out of his slacks. Tony jerks a little in surprise, not having expected this – although if he's honest with himself, he has to admit that he isn't exactly sure _what_ he expected.

There's about half a second then when he figures he can still say no. Back away and say that he's sorry to hear about Sue, but this is not the way to resolve anything. It's wrong. It's all kinds of wrong. They'll probably never be able to look each other in the eye again, and he's going to lose one of the few friends he has left. But he can't bring himself to say it. Because he wants this, too. Because he's so fucking lonely and he's so tired of being alone, of feeling like he's carrying the entire world on his shoulders. Because just for once, he wants to feel like he's in this with someone.

Then Reed's hands are on the bare skin of his back, pulling him in close, and Reed is mouthing at him, murmuring, _don't go, don't go, don't go_. He knows perfectly well that Reed is not talking to him, but to the ghost of his wife, but Tony is a master at selective hearing, and just then he chooses to believe the words are aimed at himself. Certainly Reed's hands are meant just for him, and there is no denying that Reed's cock is interested.

Nor is he the only one who's interested. As long as he remained uncertain about where this was going, Tony was able to ignore his own arousal, but now it's become impossible. His cock is pushing at his trousers, and it's suddenly very warm in the lab, almost too warm.

Fully committed now, he takes control of the situation with the ease of long practice. He pulls at the tight fabric of Reed's costume. "Off," he commands, even as he reaches for his belt and unbuckles it one-handed.

Reed complies eagerly, and within moments his lab coat is on the floor and the stretchy material of his costume is pushed down and away, baring most of his body. Faint color reddens his cheeks, although he has nothing to be ashamed of. To look at him, there is nothing out of the ordinary about him. He's just a normal, middle-aged man with an average body and an average dick. Tony knows better, though. And for a few moments he indulges himself, wondering what would happen if he gave himself up to Reed completely, and the things Reed could make him feel. Even the thought of it makes his cock harden painfully.

It's not going to happen, though. Not today, and not ever. He forces himself to put those fantasies out of his mind and focus instead on what he has right here and now.

His trousers are undone, his briefs pushed down. The lab still feels too warm, but the air is cool on his aching cock. He longs to be touched, to feel a hand not his own take hold of him and stroke. In a perfect world he would be with someone else right now, and it would be a familiar, strong hand he was reaching for and guiding down to touch him. But the world has never been perfect, and Tony long ago learned to take the scraps he is given and make do with them.

When Reed's fingers make contact with his dick, they both jump a little. Reed makes a surprised sound, reality crashing into his fantasy and momentarily dampening his arousal. Tony half-expects him to pull away and put a stop to it, but either he is too far gone with need, or else he simply doesn't care anymore, because he only hesitates the once.

 _Here_ , Tony says. And _this_. And _ah_. He pushes into Reed's hand, and he encircles Reed's cock with his fingers and he waits for instruction that doesn't come.

It doesn't matter. In this, as in all things, Reed is a quick study. It doesn't take him long at all to find the rhythm Tony likes, the right pressure, the right grip. He keeps at it steadily, almost mechanically, intent on getting it perfect. As though even something as intimate as this can be distilled down to mathematical variables.

Which, to be fair, it can.

There are no whispered endearments. No more kisses. They press together and stroke and gasp and there is no real joy in the physical pleasure, but it's better than being alone. At least this way there is someone else with him, someone's breath stuttering and whimpering along with his own, someone's hand on the small of his back, warm and solid.

The pressure is building in the pit of his stomach. His hips buck forward, and his movements on Reed's cock grow more erratic. Reed's got his eyes squeezed shut, and Tony knows he's thinking about Sue. Which is fine, because Tony is also thinking about someone else with blond hair and blue eyes. He wonders what would happen if he were to say the name locked behind his lips. Would Reed notice? Would he even care?

And he knows why they're not kissing anymore. He knows it's his mouth, his lips, his beard. Because you can only stretch the fantasy so far before it snaps and rebounds on you. And sometimes it takes you down with it.

Reed comes first, with a soft cry. His entire body stiffens and his hand clamps down almost painfully on Tony's cock. The sudden grip is just what he needs, though. He thrusts into the tight circle of Reed's fingers, and the friction and the heat are exquisite, and he thinks of how Steve would always touch him like this, not even knowing his own strength, and that's it, he's coming, his knees wanting to buckle as he spends helplessly into Reed's hand.

For a little while they simply stand there, holding each other up, breathing heavily. Tony closes his eyes, licks his lips and tastes salt. He bows his head and takes one final moment to revel in the pounding of his heart and the languor already wanting to slide through his veins. It's his last chance ever to pretend.

Too soon it's over, and they let go of each other. Tony backs away on legs that are steady now and wonders what he is supposed to say.

Reed straightens up from the table at his back. He blinks down at himself like his own body is a stranger to him. Without a word, he reaches across the lab to the sink in one corner, where a roll of paper towels stands on the counter. He grabs it and brings it back, then rips off a couple sheets and hands them to Tony.

They clean themselves up, steadfastly not looking at each other, and Tony pulls his briefs and trousers back up and wonders if he's just lost one of his few remaining friends. He tosses the paper towels into the nearest trash can and walks over to the sink so he can wash his hands.

"Thank you, Anthony," Reed says quietly from behind him.

Tony nods, but doesn't say anything. Still standing at the sink, he reaches out through Extremis and finds his way into Reed's network. It's a simple thing to leave a few lines of code there, programmed to delete the surveillance footage from the last hour. He sets it on a time delay, though, granting Reed six hours to do the deed himself. He's almost certain his program won't be necessary, but he's not taking any chances.

He turns around and sees that Reed is fully dressed again. For a moment they look at each other. Then Reed nods and takes a deep breath. "I'm going to reset the formulas on that simulation," he says.

So that's it then. Tony relaxes. Everything is going to be okay. It will never happen again, and they will never speak of it. Like erasing computer data, it will be excised from their lives completely.

Nonetheless, he thinks that maybe the next time he comes here, he will bring Peter with him. Just to be safe.

"I'm almost done with those security countermeasures," he says. "They should be online in a couple hours." Just one more step toward making 42 operational and ready to house the people he used to call his friends.

"Good," Reed says. He walks briskly over to his computer and begins tapping away at the keyboard.

After a moment, Tony returns to his workstation, too. He's slower to start working, though.

His heart isn't in it anymore.

 

END


End file.
